


Windows

by assortedfruitsnacks212



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Billy Hargrove Being an Asshole, Billy Hargrove Is Bad at Feelings, Billy Hargrove Lives, Billy Hargrove Needs a Hug, Billy Hargrove is Bad at Communicating, Cowgirl Position, Cunnilingus, DID I MENTION ELEVEN IS EIGHTEEN, Eleven is eighteen, F/M, First Time, Jim "Chief" Hopper Being Jim "Chief" Hopper, Jim "Chief" Hopper Lives, Loss of Virginity, Nocturnal Visits, Parental Jim "Chief" Hopper, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Post-Season/Series 03, older!Eleven AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-18
Updated: 2019-09-23
Packaged: 2020-09-08 03:34:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20297044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/assortedfruitsnacks212/pseuds/assortedfruitsnacks212
Summary: **PLEASE NOTE: This is an AU where Eleven is the same age as Billy. So don't @ me. ;p**Post S3. Weeks after the Battle of Starcourt, Billy gets an unexpected visitor in the middle of the night. It's weird and awkward, and he tries to chase her out of his life for good. There's just one problem: Eleven is extremely stubborn.Oh, and there's one more problem: he's already caught feelings for her.**Previously called "After Dark"**





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Yes this is a total crack ship but I love it.
> 
> It starts with the assumption that El is around 16 in S1 and 18 in S3. The show plays out much the way it already does, mostly because El is very innocent and naive for her age. She feels she fits in with the younger kids better than the older ones, and they welcome her with open arms. Mike could even have a crush on her, though in this case it wouldn't be reciprocated.
> 
> My face canon for older!El is absolutely a young Natalie Portman. Think "Garden State."
> 
> Just fyi, the title of this fic may change.

Billy bolted upright with a gasp. He was in his bed. It was the middle of the night. He was covered in sweat, his bedsheets sticking to his body.

And something - a noise - had woken him.

_The Mind Flayer. _His heart slammed into his chest. It was back, here to reclaim him for the final time. He scrambled back against the wall, breath coming out in harsh gasps as he looked wildly around the room. Waiting.

Nothing happened. 

Billy’s heartbeat slowed. He frowned, glancing at the door, then at the window.

He’d heard something. Hadn’t he? Or was it just a dream, one of the million patchwork horrors that had filled his nights since Starcourt?

When he waited a full minute and still nothing happened, he relaxed. Pushing off the wall, he sighed and raked a hand through his hair. “Fuck,” he muttered. These dreams were getting out of hand. 

With another sigh, he looked at his dresser. Reached over for his pack of cigarettes--

_Tap, tap, tap._

His head whipped around to the window. A boyish whimper caught in his throat, and he brought his hands in to clench the sheets. His heart, so freshly settled, now beat out a staccato cry. _ Run. Run. Run. _

The rational part of him knew it couldn't be the Mind Flayer. It had never dealt in subtlety, not even in its infancy. It didn’t tap on window panes; its MO was smash and destroy, whether that meant windows, buildings, or human bodies.

Still, as Billy rolled onto his knees and forced himself to crawl to the foot of the bed, his limbs shook with adrenalin. When he peeked through the glass, he half-expected to see a monstrous, tentacled creature in the yard, drooling from a maw full of teeth.

Instead, it was the one person he never would've expected.

_Her. _ The girl.

Eleven.

She was standing with her hands in the pockets of her flannel shirt, looking hopefully through his window. The second their eyes met, a shock lanced through him, and he jumped out of sight.

_Fuck, fuck, shit, fuck. _ What was she doing here? He’d never intended to see her again. There was no reason for it. And besides, there was that small issue of, _ hey, I almost killed you, _ and the other one called, _ you know all my fucking secrets. _

But here she was. Happy birthday, Billy.

He bit his lip savagely, mind racing. Just as he mustered the courage to look back out, he remembered he was wearing nothing but boxers. His face grew warm. Turning from the window, he rolled out of bed and grabbed a shirt and shorts off the floor. 

Why? He had no idea. If a girl had come to see the old Billy in the middle of the night, he would've made a point to show up at the window with _ nothing _ on. To see if he could fluster her, for one thing. For another, to state his expectations up front. _ You show up at my window, I expect to fuck you. Capisce? _

Not anymore. And definitely not with her. Did she even know what it meant to show up at a guy's house at 1AM? Probably not.

Hopping into the shorts, he went back to the window - and stopped in his tracks.

Jesus, she was beautiful. Her skin looked dewy in the moonlight, and she was gazing up at him with dark eyes so gorgeous they could kill. His stomach fluttered. Fighting against stiff hands, he threw on his shirt and raised the sash.

"What the hell are you doing here?" he whispered loudly.

"I wanted to see you. Can I come in?"

Of course she wanted to come in. She had no idea how awkward this was. Clearing his throat, Billy said, "Yeah, sure," and reached down. She smiled and grabbed his hand, and he hoisted her inside, trying not to touch her where he didn't have to.

And just like that, she was in his room, like a fucking dream. He cleared his throat again. Jesus God, this was going to be tough. 

"You, uh…” He coughed. “You wanted to see me."

"Yes," she said. But she wasn’t even looking at him. She was wandering slowly around the room, taking in the furniture and posters. He felt like she was sizing him up, and it made him rub the back of his neck nervously.

"Okay. Well... here I am."

It took her a few more seconds to finish her tour. Then she turned to him, and her plush lips parted in a smile. 

His mouth went dry.

"Billy," she said fondly, as if they were friends who hadn't seen each other in ages. It left him at a total loss, and he stared at her, wondering, for a moment, if he was still asleep.

Her smile mellowed into something deeper, more emotional. Walking toward him, she opened her arms. He was too stunned to do anything but stand there as she hugged him, pushing up on her tiptoes so she could tuck her chin in his neck.

_Fuck_, hissed a voice in his head. _ Fuck fuck fuck._

"I've been thinking about you," she whispered. Her hair smelled like flowers; her side-braid tickled his cheek.

He swallowed, and his arms reached up to wrap around her. "I've... thought about you too."

It wasn’t a lie. But it wasn't the full truth either. He could never tell her how much he'd thought of her every night. How the memory of her smile haunted his waking moments, and the memory of her tears his darkest dreams.

But she probably didn’t want to know anyway.

"Are you okay?" She stepped back, arms still around him. Her eyes searched his face, and he found himself looking at everything but her. Why the hell was she doing this? Didn't she know what it was doing to him?

He nodded, far too vigorously. "I'm fine." 

Now _ that _ was a lie. To her credit, she sensed it. Her eyes hardened, and she gave him a look that said, _ Really? You expect me to believe that? _

But what was he supposed to tell her? _ Hey, I have nightmares about you dying every night? _

"I mean..." He searched for words. "I'm... better than I was." 

Technically true.

She considered his answer. Whether she believed him or not, he could see the moment she decided to let it go. Her eyes lost their hardness, and she slid her hands up to squeeze his shoulders. (Jesus, did she have to touch him so much?) Stepping away from him, she moved to the bed and sat down. He regarded her quietly, heart skipping a beat at the sight of her among his tousled sheets. He wondered if she’d noticed how they smell. If she liked how they smell.

He crossed his arms. "Uh... h-how about you?"

She glanced up at him. A sad look passed over her face, and she shook her head slowly with an embarrassed half-smile. 

Damn. She didn't have the decency to lie, and now he felt like an ass.

He frowned. Part of him wanted to walk over and sit beside her, maybe even put an arm around her, but he stood rooted to the spot. "What's going on?"

"Nightmares. Every night." She looked down at the carpet. "I...I can't sleep. I thought... maybe you would understand."

Goddamn it.

He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. A dozen different replies stalled and died on his tongue. Meanwhile, the desire to sit next to her grew ever stronger. Go to her, go to her, it chanted.

Finally he gave in. Sighing, he walked over and sank onto the mattress beside her. His elbow brushed hers accidentally - truly accidentally, not by design - and if his mouth got any drier it'd start cracking like a salt flat.

_Just tell her _ some _ of the truth_, he said to himself. _ She doesn't have to know everything._

"I do understand," he said. "Believe me."

She looked at him. "You've had nightmares too?"

"Yep." His jaw clenched. "Every night."

Suddenly all of her attention was on him. She pivoted so she was facing him, one leg tucked beneath her, the other anchoring her to the floor. 

"How do you make them go away?" she asked earnestly.

She was so pretty right now, just fuckin' adorable, but he couldn't help but snort. "You think I know? Jesus. If I knew, do you think I'd put up with them for one goddamn second?"

It was a harsh answer, and it reflected in her expression. The hope went out of her eyes, and she looked away. A pang of guilt shot through him. Gripping the edge of the mattress, he stared at the floor.

"That..." He shut his eyes. "That came out wrong."

"Yeah," she agreed quietly. "Wrong."

Silence fell between them. Outside, crickets chirped.

Literal goddamn crickets.

Well, clearly he'd fucked up, and he was gonna have to unfuck it. So he sighed and leaned forward, rubbing his palms together. 

"Look...I've...had some bad things happen in my life. You know? Just-- really screwed up shit." He blew out a breath. "But this...this is a whole other level of screwed up. Ain't nothin' about _ this _ in my wheelhouse."

She frowned. " 'In your wheelhouse?' "

"Means I don't know how to deal with it."

He rested his elbows on his knees. Suddenly he craved the taste of smoke, and he glanced at the pack of cigs on his dresser. If he lit up now though, his sister might smell it next door, and he didn't want her to wake up. Not with Eleven here.

_Though she's probably heard us already, _ he realized. 

Shit.

“Then…” He could hear the dejection in El’s voice. “How do we find out how to...deal with it?”

“No fuckin’ clue.”

Alright. Screw Max, he needed a smoke. Leaning over, he snatched up his pack and zippo. With a _ snick, _he lit one up and breathed in like it was fresh air.

El watched him, intrigued. “Can I try?”

“You?” Billy glanced at her, brows raised. “Didn't take you for the type.”

“I want to try,” she said firmly.

Billy stared at her a second, then shrugged. “Alright.” He pulled a fresh cig out of the box. “Here. Put this between your lips. Yeah - like that. Now hold still.” 

With another _ snick, _he lit her cigarette. As the tip flared to life, he flipped his zippo shut and watched.

She breathed in. Her eyes narrowed and turned red. Suddenly she started coughing and spewing smoke everywhere. Billy leaned in quickly. “Shit, not so loud, okay?”

“This is gross!” she choked.

“Yeah, I thought so too. But you get used to it.” 

He realized his hand was on her back. Casually, he moved it away.

They smoked together a minute, El coughing the whole time. He watched her with amusement. Had to hand it to her - she was stubborn. Decided what she wanted, then went for it. He liked that in a girl. Especially if she had pretty pink lips, like she did, and thick dark waves, like she did. 

Sure, those waves were in braids now. But if he pulled her hairbands out, he knew exactly how the waves would fall. He'd seen them down before. Imagined running his fingers through them before.

What if he did it now? What if he leaned in and pushed those waves back to breathe deeply of her neck? What if he let his fingers ghost over her collarbone, tugging the flannel back to expose her shoulder? Would she close her eyes and sigh? Would she lean in too, losing herself in the hickies he was sucking into her skin?

_Fuck. _He sat up straight and looked away. “You should probably get out of here. Don’t want your old man to find out you're gone.”

“He doesn't look when he's asleep. It's fine.”

“No, it’s--”

He caught himself raising his voice, so he stopped and took a breath. His hands flexed as he tried not to imagine touching her.

“I just..._ really _ think you should go.”

Silence again. But this time he didn’t bend, and he didn't look at her either.

“Why?” she said finally. It was a drawn-out question. Less wounded than he’d expected, and more... probing. Smelling bullshit.

“Because I'm tired.” Yeah. A+ answer. “The dreams, you know? They really take something out of me. So, if you don't mind…”

“Do you lie?”

Her tone was so sharp he couldn't help but look at her. She was glaring at him, lit cigarette forgotten in her hand.

“Fuck no. Jesus, you should know how it is, if anyone does. Didn't we just talk about it?”

“I think you lie.”

“Even if I am, I wouldn't tell you. Now would you just fucking leave.”

Her glare turned stony. Shoving her cigarette in his hand, she stood and went to the window. She stopped there a moment, hand on the windowsill.

“You lie. I don't like it.”

“Yeah, well, you wouldn't like it much if I didn't. Trust me.”

With a final glare, she vaulted lightly into the yard. 

Taking a long drag of his cigarette, he snuffed hers out in the ashtray on his dresser. He glanced at the window, just to be sure she was gone. Then he leaned forward, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Jesus fucking Christ. What was that all about? Did she really think they'd talk about their problems like two girls at a sleepover?

No. He did only one thing with girls in this room. The problem with her is she would never understand that, not in a million years.

Sighing harshly, he put out his cigarette and stood. Moving to the window, he checked both sides of the yard for any sign of her. When he saw she was well and truly gone, he pushed the sash down, shucked off his clothes, and crawled into bed.

He lay there for a long time, staring at the ceiling.

Trying not to think of a pair of pretty dark eyes.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eleven keeps coming back, and quite frankly, Billy's getting fed up with it.

“So who was in your room last night?”

Of course that would be Max's first question of the day.

Billy poured himself a bowl of cereal, barely skipping a beat. He kept his back to Max the whole time, and even briefly considered denying everything. _ What? Fuckin’ no one. What are you smoking? _

But she wasn’t nine years old anymore, and he couldn’t scare her nearly as much as he used to. That meant she’d just get mad at his blatant lie.

And when she got mad, she made trouble.

So he shrugged. “No one you’d know.” He reached in the fridge for the milk.

“Really? Because she sounded kinda familiar.”

“You’re making it up, shitbird.”

“Hmmmm.” He could practically hear her look up at the sky as she pretended to reconsider. “Actually, you know what? I don’t think I am.” 

Pouring the milk in his cereal, he smiled darkly. _ Okay. You wanna play this game? We’ll play. _

“Yeah?” He set the milk aside and picked up his bowl. “Well, you know what?”

He turned to face her. She was sitting at the table with her own bowl of cereal, looking way too smug. He walked slowly toward her, not stopping till he was looming over her.

“It’s none. Of your fucking. Business.”

She stared up at him. As he expected, she remained as defiant as ever. But her lack of a snappy comeback told him the message had been received.

He took a bite of his cereal. Turned to walk out of the room.

“Remember to put the milk away,” he said.

\--

A full week passed with no nocturnal visitors. The nights were as long as ever, but Billy was satisfied. He didn’t need any more complications in his life - especially in the form of girls who “just wanted to talk.”

So when a gentle _ tap, tap, tap _woke him on the eighth night, his first reaction was to look at the window, then drop his head back on the pillow.

“Fuuuuuuuck,” he whisper-screamed, pulling his hair. This was ridiculous. _ Ridiculous_.

Well, he wasn’t gonna play nice this time. In fact, he didn’t feel like putting on a shirt _ or _shorts tonight. If she wanted to wake Billy Hargrove in the middle of the night, she was gonna get middle-of-the-night Billy Hargrove.

He rolled out of bed, went to the window, and opened it. “What do you fucking want?”

She looked much the same as the first night. Braids, flannel shirt, a hopeful expression. But when she registered his lack of clothing, her eyes went wide.

“I...I wanted...to see you,” she stammered.

“Well, you’re seeing me.”

She swallowed visibly and looked away. Huffing a laugh, he propped his elbows against the sides of the window.

“What? Too much for you?”

That nettled her. Looking back at him, eyes hard, she reached up a hand in a silent request for assistance. He smirked and leaned out to grab her, pulling her inside.

But with a twist: as soon as she was in, he “accidentally” jerked her off her feet, making her stumble against his naked chest. It had the exact effect he wanted. The moment she realized she was touching him, her face turned scarlet, and she jumped away.

Billy chuckled. Moving to his dresser, he grabbed his cigarettes, lit one, and fell into bed.

She didn’t know what to do with that. She didn’t really look at him - just kinda stood there with her hands in her pockets, chewing her lower lip. He rolled his eyes.

“I’m not gonna bite. Just say what you need to say, then get out.”

It seemed to work for a second. Turning to him, she opened her mouth to speak. But she stopped, face growing even more red, if that was possible.

A grin spread across his face. He knew what was happening. She couldn’t hide it if she tried, and she wasn’t trying at all. Here she was, a girl at the tender young age of seventeen (or was it eighteen?), realizing she had urges she didn’t understand. They burned her gut and made her heart beat faster, made her ache in places rarely, if ever, touched.

And oh, he knew why she was aching. He knew exactly what she was seeing: a Greek god of a man reclining in his bed, hair mussed from sleep, a cigarette dangling from his mouth. He had an earring that said _ I do bad things_, eyes that said _ I could do them to you, _and lips that looked like they’d make good on the threat. He knew because he’d practiced this look. Hell, it was second nature by now.

Still grinning, he rolled the cigarette between his lips. “You alright there, sweetheart?” 

She blinked. Her mouth opened and closed. “N...no.”

“No?” He feigned surprise. “Well, what are you gonna do about it?”

She had no idea. The question was making her brain short circuit; he could see it on her face. He watched, waiting, as she wrestled with a thousand different feelings.

Finally she turned, went to the window, and climbed out without a word.

_ Bingo. _Grin turning devious, Billy got up and followed her. By the time he reached the window, she was already hoofing it to the side yard. Putting his hands on the sash, he whisper-shouted, “Hey, Eleven.”

She hesitated and looked back. He winked. “Let me know when you figure it out.”

It was the final straw. Eyes bulging, she whirled around and half-walked, half-ran for the road. 

Billy chuckled, shaking his head. God, it was too easy. Almost cruel, really. Pushing the sash down, he wandered back into his room, craning his neck to blow a stream of smoke at the ceiling.

As far as he could see, there were only two possibilities now. Either she would come back a changed woman, with a woman’s desires, or she would never come back at all.

Either way - he won.

Damn, he thought, grinning to himself. Sometimes it was good to be Billy Hargrove.

\--

She came back all of two nights later.

Admittedly, this surprised Billy. Yes, he'd been hoping she'd come back. Nightmares, insomnia, and flashbacks to a giant tentacle-monster had crimped his game pretty badly, meaning he hadn't gotten laid in weeks. If a blushing virgin decided to let him pop her cherry, he wasn't going to say no.

But two nights? That was...unexpected. He would've bet money that it'd take her at least another week to come around. If she was here now, that meant she’d done a complete one-eighty in forty-eight hours - or she'd found another reason to come back.

Like trying to talk to him _ again_.

When Billy opened the window, his seductive posture felt forced. “Well, well. Back so soon?”

She met his gaze fearlessly. He knew then that, yes, she had come to talk again.

God fucking dammit.

“Can we go for a...a walk?” she asked.

He scoffed. “Sorry. I'm not in the mood.”

As he moved to close the window, she leapt forward. “Wait! P-please. I...I need this. No one else understands.”

He stared down at her. A low heat simmered in his belly. The fucking nerve of this girl, trying to make _ this _ happen - whatever _ this _ was. He leaned forward, gripping the window frame till his knuckles turned white.

“What makes you think I care? Because I don't,” he growled. “Let me tell you something about the world. People don't care if you're understood. They don't care about your sob story, your horrible childhood, any of that shit. They just want to know what they can take from you. That's it.”

He stood up straight. “The sooner you learn that, the better it'll be for you.”

He moved to close the window again, but she stopped him with a soft word. “No.”

“What?”

“No,” she said. “You're wrong. And you know you're wrong.”

The look in her eyes froze him to the spot. His breath hitched, and suddenly he was back in Starcourt. She was gazing up at him with that same look in her eyes, her face flashing blue and red, and she was cradling his cheek in a gentle hand.

_ The wave was seven feet. _

It hit him like a physical blow. He flinched, reaching for the window. “Fuck off,” he hissed, and slammed it in her face.

He'd only taken two steps when the sound came: _ tap, tap, tap. _He stopped, closing his eyes. 

This girl... was _ insane_. Absolutely certifiable. No one in their right mind would keep coming here night after night, pushing through rejection after rejection, just to fucking talk. Least of all to him. He didn't radiate warm, cuddly feelings of openness and vulnerability, and that was by design. Openness made you weak. Vulnerability got you hurt.

And yet, as insane as she was, he owed her. He grit his teeth thinking about it, but it was true. First of all, because he'd nearly gotten her killed. Second of all, because she'd saved his life.

He rolled his tongue in his mouth. Turning back to the window, he slowly lifted the sash.

“Where do you want to go?” he asked.

\--

She took him to the train tracks. In all his months in Hawkins, he'd never actually been to the tracks. Why take long, romantic walks when you had a car to bang chicks in? It was a waste of time, and most chicks who gravitated to him seemed to agree.

It was pretty nice, though, on a night like this. There was a chill to the air, foretelling the coming of fall, but nothing a jacket couldn't ward off. The stars were out in force, and the moon, just a sliver away from full, lit the ground well enough that they didn't need flashlights.

As they meandered down the railroad ties, Billy puffed on a cigarette. He'd offered one to El at the start of their walk, but she'd just wrinkled her nose and shook her head. It was so cute he forgot to laugh. 

Now he smoked thoughtfully, hands deep in his pockets. 

God. If you'd asked him just three months ago where he'd be now, and who with, he would _ not _ have said, “Still in Hawkins, with a girl named fucking Eleven.” No, he’d had plans. Save a little money at the summer job, then it'd be goodbye cow pies, hello sunshine. He was eighteen now, after all, and had his high school diploma. He could go anywhere he wanted, including back home.

But the Mind Flayer had ruined all that. Just like it'd ruined a lot of things.

Frowning, he pulled his cig out and blew smoke in the air. He glanced over at El. She was walking quietly beside him, hands hidden in her flannel shirt. Which, come to think of it, looked thin - too thin for fifty-degree weather.

“You sure you're not cold?” he asked.

She nodded. He made a clicking sound with his teeth.

“Don't know if I believe you.”

“I'm not!” she laughed.

His heart flipped. Jesus, when she laughed it completely transformed her looks. Her eyes, which leaned toward the somber side, practically danced with energy, and her entire face glowed. He'd never seen anything like it.

Looking away, he stuck his cigarette back in his mouth. “Well, if you're lying, that's on you.”

“Friends don't lie.”

“Friends, huh? Since when do you think we're friends?”

“We just...are.”

“Huh. News to me.”

They walked on in silence. He finished his first cigarette and started another. The breeze whispered through the trees around them, and he thought briefly of the Mind Flayer - how it could still be out there somewhere. Right now though, with her, the fear didn’t seem real. Weird how that worked.

“Dad’s been struggling a lot.”

Billy raised his eyebrows. Jeez, finally. Is this what she wanted to talk about so badly?

“The chief? What for?”

“Everything that happened. I got hurt and it scared him.”

Billy’s lips twitched. He looked down at the railroad ties.

“Must be nice,” he muttered, “having a dad who actually cares.”

He could feel her gaze turn to him. He could picture her eyes perfectly too: bright in the moonlight, welling with too much emotion.

“Your dad...doesn’t care at all?”

“If he does, he has a fucked up way of showing it.”

He drew on his cigarette. Blew out smoke. “So if your dad’s so worried about you, how do you know he won’t wake up? Find out you’re gone?”

“He takes pills. They make him sleep all night.”

Billy laughed. “Think you can sneak me some?”

When she didn’t respond, he glanced over to find her looking confused and uncomfortable. He rolled his eyes. “Relax, it’s just a joke.”

Silence again. He bit down on his cigarette, trying to rein in his frustration. Good God, having a conversation with this chick was a fucking chore. Not that he had a lot of conversations with chicks, but when they insisted, at least they could follow through. 

This one… fuck, it’s like she didn’t know what she wanted.

Which, in his opinion, could mean only one thing.

His mood darkened. Stretching his neck, he reached up and adjusted his shirt.

“Alright. Here’s what I don’t get,” he said. “Why _ you _ keep showing up at _ my _house in the middle of the night.”

“Because...we’re friends,” she answered, like a fucking broken record, as if that explained everything.

“_Really_.” Anger flashed through him, and he stopped and turned to her. She stopped as well, eyes widening at the violence of his response.

“No. You know what?” He pointed at her with his cigarette. “I call bullshit. You say you just wanna talk, but I don't think you do. Not really. 

“You _ think _ you want to. Maybe you really think you're here to make friends, but you're lying to yourself, sweetheart. No girl has ever walked miles in the dark just to talk to me. And if you ask me--” he stepped forward “--you're no different.”

Incredibly, though her eyes were as wide as ever, she stood her ground. He took another step forward, testing her. Then another, until she had to crane her neck up to see him. He hovered there in challenge, watching the pulse quicken in her pretty throat.

“You ever kiss a boy, Eleven?”

“No,” she said softly. She was staring up at him, utterly transfixed.

“Never had the chance, mm? Not before you joined the real world. And now that you're here, your old man wouldn't allow it. But you still want it. Don't you? It's why you keep sneaking out. Even when you know your old man would freak. You're not a little girl anymore, and you can feel it.”

He leaned in. He could smell her hair. Fuck, it smelled good. 

“What if...I gave you what you wanted?”

She was breathing harder now. In other circumstances he'd interpret it as fear, but he could see the wildness in her eyes. That wide, black look a cat got when it saw the flash of a feather. The look that knew it was about to feed. 

Smirking, he leaned in further, inclining his head just so--

\--and kissed her.

It was soft and sweet at first, the perfect introduction to the idea. But he deepened it quickly. Reaching up to frame her face, he pushed through her lips to tangle his tongue with hers. Nice and slow.

She offered no resistance. At first she didn't do _ anything_, but he'd expected that. She was a blank slate, with no carnal knowledge whatsoever.

Then something happened - a shift. She started kissing him back, but far more fiercely than he’d anticipated. Her hands grabbed the front of his jacket and pulled him closer; her teeth caught his bottom lip, and she sucked on it hard.

He chuckled lowly. When he extricated his lip, it made a long, slick _ pop_.

“Damn, sweetheart. You're not as innocent as I thought.”

She didn't even respond. Standing on her toes, she attacked his lips again. He attacked hers right back, wrapping his arms around her to hold her steady.

Hands began to wander. Hers kept plucking at his shirt, betraying an unspoken desire, while his slid down to her ass. When he squeezed, she gasped a little, breaking their kiss. He grinned.

“What, you like that?”

She nodded and swooped in for more. She looked so serious as she kissed him, eyebrows furrowed in concentration, that he couldn't help but smile. Jesus Christ, she was hungry. What would she be like in bed?

Minutes later, he pulled back. She chased him with her lips at first, until she realized he was going to say something. He nuzzled her cheek. Looked her in the eye.

“Come back to my room.”

Her breath hitched. As she stared at him, face flushing an even deeper red, he leaned in and mouthed at her neck, her cheek, her earlobe. He felt her shiver against him, and suddenly he realized she was stiff as a board.

“I can't,” she whispered.

“Why not?”

“I just…” She pulled away. “I just... can't.”

_ Damn. _He’d known this was too good to be true. Things were going too fast, and she couldn't take it.

Oh well. He could still salvage this. Straightening up, he gazed down at her with hooded eyes, biting his lip. He looked more fuckable than ever, and he knew it.

Before he could say anything, she slipped out of his arms and stumbled down the tracks. Quickly, as if she knew the danger. He watched her retreating form with a grin.

“I take it we’re done here?” he called. 

When she looked back at him - as he knew she would - he slipped his cigarette back in his mouth and played with it with his tongue. Just to remind her what his tongue was capable of.

He could practically see the image burn itself in her mind. Blinking, she turned and broke away from the tracks to cut straight through the woods. She had to get home right away, either to toss and turn in bed, or - just as likely by this point - rub feverishly at the forbidden place between her legs.

He chuckled. _ Perfect_. Tossing his cig on the ground, he stomped it out and lit up a new one. After a few celebratory puffs, he swaggered toward home, a smirk permanently etched on his face.

She'd be back. For real this time.

And then... well. He'd see what she was made of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are soooo close to smut, my dears!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eleven comes back, and she knows what she wants this time.

She came back the very next night.

When she tapped on the window, he was already awake. Stirring, he checked the clock, and what he saw made him laugh.

12:30AM. She could hardly wait.

He mouthed a whoop at the ceiling. Rolling out of bed, he crept to the window to see her staring up at him. Her hands were in her pockets, and she was already breathing a little faster than normal.

Also, her hair was down.

He froze. She looked… phenomenal. Her waves, just like he remembered, fell thickly around her shoulders. And her lips, so plush they were sinful, seemed redder than they were yesterday. Either she’d spent the whole walk biting them, or she’d actually put something on. Did little miss Eleven have makeup at home?

Putting on his most alluring smile, he raised the sash. “Hey.”

“Hey,” she said. It came out softly, even breathlessly.

He reached down for her. When she took his hand, electricity shot up his arm and crackled through his skin. As she climbed into the room, he grabbed her hip, making sure she landed right against his chest.

It seemed to startle her, but only for an instant. A heartbeat later, she seized his lips in a kiss. It was as fierce as last night’s, and it took him a second to catch up.

“Mm. Fuck.” He reached around her to close the window. No need to tell the whole neighborhood what they were doing.

As soon as he’d finished, she jumped into his arms, nearly catching him off guard. Holding her legs around his waist, he turned and spilled her on the bed, kissing her all the while.

Goddamn. This girl had very clearly decided that, yes, she wanted him. They made out like this, prone on his bed, for quite some time. And the whole time, she couldn’t stop touching him. She squeezed his waist with her thighs, raked her hands through his hair, and kneaded the muscles in his back. It sent the blood straight to his cock, and he pushed himself between her legs, rubbing rhythmically against the denim of her jeans.

She gasped and shuddered. He broke away to shove his lips in her ear.

“Anyone done this to you before?”

“N-no,” she gasped.

“So I’m the first?”

“Yes!”

“Good.” Meant her first dick would be good dick.

He kissed down her neck, then pushed her flannel up to expose her stomach. He spent a good long minute there, sucking her skin and swirling his tongue in her belly button. She kept her hands on his head, gripping his hair as she moaned at the contact.

When he came up for air, she was looking at him with eyes so dark they were black. Crawling up her body, he claimed her lips again. She was ready for him, opening wide to accept his tongue.

_ Ah, fuck. _He couldn’t get over the hunger. He’d fucked virgins, sluts, and everything in between, but never someone who gave herself to him so completely. There was usually an undercurrent of cynicism, in the case of sluts, or fear, in the case of virgins. Eleven had neither. She’d wanted this for years, he felt - had been dimly aware of a growing passion - but had never known where to put it. Now she knew, and she was diving in with hardly a breath.

It was fucking hot. 

Breaking their kiss, he pushed himself up and went to work unbuttoning her flannel. He quickly realized she wasn't wearing a shirt underneath. Or a bra. As he undid the buttons, he was creating an unbroken strip of skin from sternum to belly.

She’d come prepared.

He grinned, shaking his head. _ Unbelievable. _ When the last button was undone, he pushed the flannel apart, revealing small breasts with rosebud nipples. And then he stayed there, eyes roaming her prone form.

God, she was gorgeous. Her hair was strewn over his bedsheets, rippling like streams of ink. Her eyes were wide and glassy, her lips parted. And with every breath she took, her breasts rose and fell, anxious for his touch.

Why make her wait? Swooping down, he caught a breast in his mouth and sucked. As she gasped, shocked by the new sensation, he shoved his arms under her back and pulled her up against him. She was arching into him now, her chest completely exposed to the moonlight.

Incredible. Just incredible.

As he kept tasting her and touching her, her breath quickened even more, becoming desperate little pants. It made his cock twitch in his boxers, made him wonder how much longer _ he _could wait. Until suddenly--

\--she began to shake.

It took him a second to realize she was sobbing.

He lifted his mouth from her nipple. Oh fuck. What was this? Had he hurt her somehow? 

“H-Hey...hey.” He shifted so his face was above hers. “You alright?”

Tears streamed down her cheeks as she nodded. When she could catch her breath, she said, “It feels really good.”

He stared at her. This? Yeah, he could tell. But good enough to cry over?

“You…want me to keep going?”

Another nod. He shifted uncomfortably. “Okay. Just...fuck, tell me if anything hurts, alright?”

“I will.”

He went back to sucking her breast. Despite his best efforts though, the fire had gone out of him. He didn’t want it to; he wanted to give her everything he’d promised and more. Besides, he had a reputation to uphold.

But fuck. _ Fuck _this was weird. Just being touched and kissed made her cry. He hadn’t counted on that - especially when she was so fucking horny.

As he kissed up her sternum, he began to hesitate. Finally he pulled away altogether. She looked up at him, eyebrows knotting in confusion.

“Shit. I don’t know, maybe--” he licked his lip “--maybe we should stop.”

“Why?”

“I’m just...not sure you’re ready.”

She studied his face with probing eyes. It made him want to look away. He knew she was seeing _ into _him, as she had so many times before. It was frightening - and amazing.

“Do _ you _need to stop?” she asked.

“I don’t know, I…”

He shook his head. For once, he could feel his emotions showing, truly showing in his eyes. He couldn’t stop them. The fear, the uncertainty--

“I don’t know,” he said.

El’s expression melted into something warm, yet vulnerable. It reminded him of Starcourt, of her eyes flashing blue and purple as she told him of his most painful, most meaningful memory. Taking his face in her hands, she pulled him down and kissed him. When she let go, he couldn’t help but meet her gaze, and the need he saw there stunned him.

“Please, Billy,” she whispered. “Just...show me.”

_ Show me you care. _

He stared down at her, speechless. Behind him, he could almost hear the crack of fireworks, the roars of a monster in pain.

And in that moment, his misgivings evaporated.

Face softening, he dropped down and seized her lips with his. Violently. Passionately. She responded in kind, wrapping her legs around his hips to keep him there.

He’d lost the fight. That much was clear.

So why did it feel so good?

\--

Her clothing seemed to just fall off after that. Her jeans ended up on the floor, her flannel tossed on the dresser. Her panties he removed with care, folded, and hid in a drawer. “Price of admission,” he said, winking.

She was totally exposed now, lying naked and open on his bed. With a single, rough pull, he jerked her to the edge of the mattress. She bit back a squeal, her face breaking out in a grin.

He knelt before her, hands on her knees.

“Do you trust me?”

She nodded, eyes sparkling. Swiping his tongue over his lips, he slid his hands up her thighs and pushed them gently apart. The sight that unfolded before him made his heart stop. 

He’d seen a lot of pussy in his lifetime. After all, it was quite possibly his favorite thing. He’d seen big ones and small ones, shaved ones and bushy ones, and while he had his preferences, he was a fan of them all.

But this one was different. This one was _ hers. _Pink and rose-like, it held the secret to making her come completely undone.

Also, she'd shaved. The idea of innocent, virginal Eleven taking a razor to her pussy because she wanted his dick just… God. It did something to him.

He wet his lips again. Leaning forward, he licked a gentle stripe up her folds, making sure to flick her clit at the end. 

“_Oh_,” she gasped. He glanced up to see her lips were parted, her eyes shut, her skin flushed in the prettiest way imaginable. It was fucking perfect. Eager to stoke the fire, he licked her one more time, then captured her clit in his mouth and started sucking. She jumped and grabbed a handful of his curls.

“Oh, f-f-f-f-_fuck,” _she hissed. 

His eyes widened, and he smiled into her pussy. _ Wow. _Add that to the list of things he hadn’t expected.

Well, he absolutely had to reward her for that. Tilting his head, he quickened his pace enough to keep her writhing. She sucked a breath in through her teeth, thighs moving in to squeeze his head. Meanwhile, she flung a hand across her chest, as if trying to contain the sensations that threatened to make her burst.

But it wouldn't be that easy. He waited a minute, then, still working her clit, took his middle finger and used it to spread her vaginal opening. He rubbed it slowly for a while, letting her get accustomed to the feeling. Then he started rubbing it forcefully at a machine-gun pace. She gasped in staccato, back arching.

When he finally plunged his finger inside, she was ready. Her pussy clamped down around it, and she began to rock, a loud moan escaping her lips. 

He slapped his free hand over her mouth. “Shhhhh,” he said. She stopped moaning, thank God, but she kept rocking without a beat, meeting his gaze with a feverish look. She didn't even seem embarrassed. 

Sweet Jesus, this girl. Guess he'd have to rise to her level.

One finger in her pussy became two. As he drilled deep inside her, he took his hand from her mouth and fingered a breast, all while sucking her clit. He stayed that way for several minutes, taking her higher, watching in fascination as she experienced every sensation for the first time.

When she began to pant - too quickly, he thought - he mumbled around her flesh, “Breathe.” She made a heroic effort to obey, in through her nose and out through her mouth.

It didn't last long. As he worked all her sensitive spots, her pleasure reached a fever pitch and, finally, she plunged over the edge. 

He felt it like a muted punch to the chest - a sudden release of her power when the orgasm came. Her eyes screwed shut, and with a swift intake of breath, she bucked into his mouth again and again. He grabbed her hips to hold her in, not letting her go until she had collapsed into the bed, her skin damp with sweat.

_ Fuckin’ shit. _Looking askance at her, he lifted his mouth from her pussy. Weren't her powers supposed to be… oh, you know… gone?

If she’d noticed the mini shockwave she’d released, she didn’t seem to care. Breathing hard, she looked up at him from the sheets, her arm still thrown over her chest, and grinned. It was the brightest smile he’d ever seen from her, a thousand megawatts of light, absolutely blinding.

His heart flipped. He smiled too; he couldn’t help it.

“How d’ya feel?”

She giggled. The sound bubbled out of her like water, streaming from her mouth and spilling all over the bed. Grabbing his arms, she pulled him up to her face and kissed him passionately, ignoring - or enjoying? - the taste of her own juices. It made his dick harden all over again, and he hummed into their kiss.

It was time. Still kissing her, he groped for the top drawer of his dresser and opened it. He reached inside, pulled out a condom--

“Wait.” Eleven grabbed his wrist. He stopped and looked at her, condom in hand.

_ Fuck. _Was she going to chicken out now? Let the hot guy eat her out, then turn tail and run before he could get his? 

Well, he wasn’t going to force her. He wasn’t a sleazebag. More to the point, he could never, _ ever _hurt her. But goddamn if this wasn’t going to be the worst case of blue balls he’d ever had in his life.

He opened his mouth to respond. Before he could, she blurted, “Y-you don’t need it.”

_ Wait, what? _

He stared down at her. “Uh...yes, I do. You _ do _know where babies come from, right?”

“Yes,” she answered, scowling. “But you don’t need it.”

Okay, what was she getting at, exactly?

When he kept staring at her, telegraphing his utter confusion, she blushed all the way down to her breasts. Wait, seriously? _ Now _she was blushing?

“I’m...I’m taking a...a pill,” she said. “Mrs. Byers wanted me to.”

_ The pill. _Billy blinked. Just when he thought she couldn’t surprise him again...

“Mrs. Byers? You mean--” he wracked his memory “--the mom of that Will kid?”

“Yes.”

“Why does she care?”

“She said every girl my age should be on something. She--she said--”

“No, I mean, why does she care about _ you? _Jesus. That’s really personal, isn’t it?”

“Well, she’s...kind of my mom now.” El smiled. “Her and Dad…”

_ Ah. _“Okay, okay. The hard-ass police chief found love. Got it.” 

_ Thank fuckin’ God. _

Billy threw the condom back in the drawer and shoved it closed. Settling against her body, he rained kisses on her shoulders and collarbone as he let her get used to his weight. Between her legs, his cock, still tucked away in his underwear, hovered against the sensitive flesh of her slit. She gazed down at him, suddenly rigid, and though her eyes were still full of desire, for the first time he could feel some hesitation from her.

He reached down between them and tugged his underwear off. Then he stroked her slit with his hand, letting his naked cock tease her entrance. She bit her lip and shut her eyes, frowning in anticipation.

“You want this?” he asked huskily.

She nodded. 

“Not good enough. Say it. _ Do you want this_?”

“Yes!”

He rewarded her by plunging his fingers inside her. Her mouth fell open, and she curled up toward him. He rested his cheek against hers and held her close. 

“It might hurt the first time,” he murmured, stretching and massaging her from the inside, “but we’ll go slow. Just tell me if it’s too much. Okay? I fuckin’ mean that.”

Her arms snaked around his back, and she brushed a kiss against his cheek. It was too affectionate for his taste, so he pushed up just enough to break contact.

He pulled his fingers out. Grabbed his dick. And slowly, watching her face for her reaction, he guided his dick inside her entrance.

She tensed all over. “Ohhhhhhhh,” she cried, face crumpling in pain. He stopped with just an inch of his dick inside her.

“Too much?”

“No.” Eyes shut, she bit her lip.

“You sure?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. Just relax. Breathe.”

_ What the fuck? _ Since when was he a sex coach for virgins? He shook his head a little, but stayed where he was, letting her adapt. As she breathed in and out, he cradled her in his arms and planted deep, open-mouth kisses on her neck, hoping it would relax her.

“Tell me when I can move.”

Moments later, she nodded. Still cradling her, he pushed deeper inside her, as slowly as he could manage. Her harsh intake of breath made his guts twist, and he stopped again.

_ Fuck. _He was hurting her. No more than usual with a virgin, but Jesus Christ, it was killing him.

_ It's okay, _ he told himself. _ She'll let you know if it's too much. _ But the anxiety remained, chewing at his insides, until he realized that, goddammit, he couldn't do it like this.

“Hey.” He pulled out. “What if we tried something different?”

As he adjusted his position over her, she watched him with a frown. She clearly didn't like that he'd pulled out. _ Jesus, have some patience. _

“Something...different?” she asked.

“Yeah. I think it'll be better for your first time.” 

He caught her hands. “Here.” Pulling her up, he traded spots with her, lying down in the indent she'd left in the bed. With his hands on her hips, he guided her into position over his cock. It was wilting a bit, so he pumped it a few times, then lowered her onto it. She gasped as he entered her again, but when he stopped - no more than an inch in - she looked down at him with another frown. _ What are you doing? _

“It's up to you,” he said urgently. God, she felt so good around his dick. “You set the pace. Okay? Whatever you want.”

Her eyes lit up. Great, she got it. That meant they could get this show on the road. Planting her hands on his stomach, she breathed in and started lowering herself. He gasped at the slow frisson of sensation. “Oh yeah. Yeah, just like that. Fuck.”

She stopped a couple inches in, grimacing. But that was fine; that was enough. He looked her in the eyes. “Okay. Now move...like this.” He pulled her forward, then pushed her back. Two times, three times, until she understood. Watching his face, she imitated his movements, rocking slowly on his dick. His head fell back on the mattress, and he growled, “Ahhhhh, fuck.”

Next time he looked at her, she was fucking _grinning_. It made him want to laugh - why, he couldn't say - but he choked it back. No, he did _not_ laugh during sex. It didn't fit his image.

So he closed his eyes and lost himself in the feel of her. The wet, velvety texture of her pussy on his dick. Her fingers digging into the sensitive skin of his stomach. Her thighs gripping him on either side as she rocked, sending waves of pleasure to his core. It was fucking incredible, but more than anything, it was _ her. _

God, what did that mean? He shut his eyes more tightly, shoving the question aside.

As the minutes passed and she kept rocking, she grew in confidence. She lowered herself even more onto his dick and, gradually, so gradually, picked up the pace. Her hands left his stomach and tangled with his on her hips. When she began to pant, he looked up to see her eyes were shut and her eyebrows knotted, just like they'd been when they kissed on the train tracks.

Was it starting to feel good to her? Licking his thumb, he used it to rub circles around her clit. She gasped, and her hips stuttered against him.

Now it was definitely feeling good. He bit back a grin and let his head fall onto the mattress. “Fuck yes,” he hissed.

As her rocking grew more intense and her breathing more labored, he took a hand off her hip and buried it in his hair. His breathing increased in tempo to match hers, and he twisted his curls in his fingers.

Fuck, this was good. _ Too _ good. And he hadn't done this in weeks. Damn, he was going to pop soon, wasn't he?

For a split second he considered pulling her off so he could cool down. He rejected that thought the instant she moaned, “_Ohhhhh_.” The sound went straight to his dick, and he knew then that he couldn't wait. Grabbing her hips, he made her rock faster, his breath coming in harsh gasps.

Finally, the feeling hit him like a freight train.

“Fuck, I'm coming!” The words had barely left his mouth when it happened. A shockwave of pleasure rocked his body, and he cried out softly as he bucked into her, liquid heat shooting up his cock. He pumped into her again and again, crying out each time, until finally every last inch of him was spent. He collapsed into the mattress, panting.

_ Fuuuuuuuck_. He'd needed that so bad. Throwing an arm over his face, he took deep breaths to recover. Meanwhile Eleven leaned down, still sitting on his cock, and cradled him as he'd done with her. 

When she kissed his cheek - gently, like she would a baby's - he had to push down the instinct to shove her away. _ Goddammit_. He didn't need to be fucking coddled. With a scowl, he sat up quickly and pulled her off his dick, then spun her around so she was on her hands and knees, ass facing him. Before she could protest, he leaned over and yanked her head back by the hair. It cut off her airflow just enough to render her mute.

“Let's finish you off, shall we?” he growled. And with that, he plunged three whole fingers into her wet pussy.

Her mouth fell open in a silent scream. It was fucking gorgeous, and he responded by gripping her hair tighter, drilling into her harder. She rocked back onto his fingers, every breath a strangled gasp as she sought her release. 

It wasn't hard to find. Soon, with a muted cry, she bucked into him - and just like before, a mini shockwave hit him in the chest. This time he heard it rattle his dresser, and it was the fucking sexiest sound he could imagine - like a headboard knocking against a wall, or the suspension of a car bouncing.

Spent, she sagged into the mattress, her ass in the air. Grinning, he pulled his fingers out and licked their combined juices off them. She was still full of his cum, after all, and would be for a good long time.

He bent over and licked a stripe up her back. Planted hard, biting kisses on her shoulder.

“You did so good,” he whispered in her ear. “So good for me.” He kissed her temple sloppily. She bit her lip and tilted her head to give him better access.

_ Fuckin’ hell. _ After all that, was she _ still _ hungry?

Part of him wanted to take the opportunity, to keep her in his room all night until she begged him to let her go. The rest of him shied away from the thought. There was something else in the air here, something that made his gut twist into knots and his heart flutter, and he didn't know what he thought of it. He needed time for that.

He pushed her hair back and kissed the skin behind her ear. She smiled, and fuck, there it was again - that stupid flutter in his heart.

“I'll get you cleaned up,” he whispered, “and then...”

He hesitated. Why did it hurt to say this?

“...and then you need to go home. Okay? In case your dad wakes up.”

She nodded, too fucked out to care he was sending her away. Hell, if she didn't go home in the next few minutes, she'd probably fall asleep in his bed. Fighting a smile of his own, he kissed her skin one more time and left to sneak to the bathroom. The whole way there, he walked more lightly than normal, as if the carpet were made of clouds. If he'd been anywhere else, he would've whooped out loud and punched the air.

He'd gotten her. He'd finally gotten her.

_ Or has she gotten you? _ whispered a strange thought. It should've scared him.

It didn't.


End file.
